


Don’t Speak

by Stardust16



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Cold, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 05:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13070097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stardust16/pseuds/Stardust16
Summary: It's a well-known fact that Peter talks a lot (emphasis on the last two words of the sentence). So, when he's on "vocal rest", not only does it interfere with his classes and decathlon practices, but it also interferes with his crime-fighting in Queens... which, isn't good, to say the least.





	Don’t Speak

**Author's Note:**

> A quick little one shot I wrote, because I’m in the exact same situation as Peter (I'm sick, yayyyy) and am currently trying to resolve an argument between some of my best friends while doing so. Don’t judge if you don’t like it, but enjoy either way.

"Hey! Don't you guys know it's illegal to murder minors?!" Peter quips in his Spider-Man suit, as if he just appeared out of thin air—which, he kinda did. Facing off against four, maybe five, gang members with guns isn't really the best part of his day, but it's definitely not the worst of the week.

No, the worst of the week was when he came down with a cold a few days ago (May was fretting over him like crazy, not knowing how long it'd take him to heal with his advanced healing factor, or if he would, as his body overworked itself, but he couldn't really blame her, 'cause he'd be worried too if the roles were (weirdly) reversed).

But, that wasn't all. Nope, because, after all of his symptoms taking a turn for the worst (the advanced healing factor was great, because his injuries and colds passed by faster, but that also meant his symptoms were worse than a normal person's), he found out he had laryngitis... which, to be honest, _wasn't_ all that great, when he was on 'vocal rest' and wasn't allowed to participate in decathlon practices.

...Oh yeah, and, also, he wasn't supposed to be on patrol right now, but it wasn't like May was home to see him leave, so...

"Crap, it's the Spider-Guy!"

"Yeah, no shit, man!" Two of the criminals begin to argue, like the stupid idiots they are, and Peter begins to take down the other two. It's really not all that hard, considering all they've got is a couple of pistols, and he's got this high-tech multi-million dollar superhero suit, so he knocks them out of their hands easily and shoots a few webs, sticking them to the walls of the alleyway he’s in.

The other guys try to make a run for it, but, they're too slow and Peter's too fast. He stops them at the last second, hanging upside down from one of those street lights that turn on at night—gas lamps—and webs them both to a nearby newspaper stand. It's fine, though, 'cause The Daily Bugle never has anything interesting to say, anyway.

"Peter,” He hears as he scribbled a note down for the police on a piece of paper, listening to the AI in his ear. "You're fever is currently at 101.3 degrees, and you seem to be making your cold worse. I recommend setting up a GPS so you can find your way home and rest."

"Ugh." Immediately, the superhero groans, annoyed at his so-called 'intelligent' AI. "Karen," He whines. "I'm fine!"

"Your vitals, Peter, say otherwise."

The teenager exhaled a huff of annoyance, his breath actually able to be seen in the cold weather. "I beg to differ, Karen," He muttered, his voice sore and his face hot, but nevertheless headed home, as he shot a web in the opposite direction.

Heading home, of course, would usually only take twenty minutes, but, with how much the superhero's senses are acting up, it takes more like forty... Which, usually wouldn't be all that bad, if he wasn't out of breath and his vision wasn't spinning as he messily tumbled through a window, into his somewhat cluttered bedroom.

"Ugh..." Sitting up on his elbows, the boy had then groaned, as he raised a hand to his head, exhaling in annoyance when he felt a bump, along with blood, on the side of it. "Karen," He rasped, quietly. "What—" Stopping, the superhero coughed, as oxygen travelled from his mouth to his fists. "W-What was that?"

"You appear to have hit your head on the window coming in."

"Well, yeah, I know _that_ , but..." Taking his hand down from his head, the superhero squinted at the sight of the crimson liquid coating his fingertips. "Did I get, like, a concussion or something?" He asked, wincing when his sore throat rebelled against him.

"No concussions are detected, as of currently, but rest is highly recommended."

"Of course it is." Peter resisted the urge to roll his eyes and, after taking off the suit, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and his red sweatshirt that stuck to his fever-filled skin, as it continued (metaphorically) melting him. "May?" He had then called out, unsure if the only mother figure he had in his life, since he was five, had been home the whole time. "You home yet?"

Of course, the only thing that met the teen's ears was silence. Not that he could be mad about that, though. Ever since Ben's death, May had to work a lot harder than she used to, the money that they had coming in being a lot less than they expected.

So, sighing a bit tiredly, the high school student walked into the kitchen and grabbed an ice pack for his head, before settling down on the living room couch, as he flipped through the random channels of things that he didn't really want to watch, but _would_ out of boredom and exhaustion.

Let's see... The news? Nope, he already knew what Spider-Man did today, he just got back from patrol, after all. That, being one of the five things that even held a bit of interest in him, left Disney Channel, the CW, MTV, and.. some midday talk show, which was just plain weird, because who even did talk shows in the middle of the day?

Good thing for the teen, though, he was too tired to care, nevermind find out. So, switching on to some murder show on the CW, with a beanie-wearing biker and a blonde reporter, along with some small-town serial killer, the teen shifted beneath the thin blanket that covered him and fell asleep to the sound of the TV.

 

 

The teenager woke up, like the way someone falls out of love; slowly, and then all at once.

Blinking his at-first blurry eyes open, the superhero slowly sat up, peering around at his surroundings, before recognizing that he was in the living room of the apartment he shared with his aunt. Some things he noticed, though, were slightly different. For instance, the TV was still on, but was now playing a different show rather than the one he (kind of) watched hours ago, as a werewolf and some raven-haired girl appeared on screen. Shutting it off with the remote in front of him, the superhero swung his legs over the couch and stood up.

"H'y... May..." The superhero spoke, but stopped in his tracks when he listened to what he'd just said. It wasn't the statement, however, that he was concerned about, rather than his own voice; it sounded like there was nothing left of it, like everything was absolutely faded from it, as, when he spoke, nothing more than a sad whisper came out.. which, wasn't all that weird (but also kinda was), because he knew that while he had an advanced healing factor, his symptoms or colds could easily become worse than normal person's.

But, it seemed as if May didn't notice, and, if she did, she didn't comment on it. "Hey sweetie," She instead greeted, as she finished up with the dishes and turned off the sink, while her nephew fetched a bottle of water from the fridge. "Feeling any better?" She questioned, concerned, as she wiped her hands on a nearby rag.

"...S'mewh't..." The teenage boy replied, though it was obvious it was a lie. Maybe he didn't notice it a few minutes ago, because he was just waking up, but his skin now felt hotter, a bit more than it did before, and his voice, despite not actually working, was hurting more so too. Not only that, but he felt as if he slurred his words more than he said them, which, was a problem.

But, even though May didn't seem to notice it a few minutes ago, she certainly did now. Stepping forward and placing a hand on her nephew's forehead, her's creased in concern while her face filled with worry. "Okay," She spoke, taking her hand down and frowning. "So, now that I know you're lying, can I get an actual explanation?" She asked, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets.

The teen mentally groaned, but knew he had to at least try to explain what he did to make his 'cold' worse. "Um..." He started to speak, but suddenly stopped when his aunt handed him a notepad. "On paper," She added.

 _I, um..._ Writing down what he wanted to say, but couldn't, the vigilante handed his aunt back the notepad, as she took a look at it. _I may have gone out as Spider-Man a few hours ago and kinda, sorta, maybe, used my voice while helping out some minors that were about to be murdered...?_

"And what about your head?" May asked, to which her nephew shrugged and remembered the blood from the bump he received from his window. And it wasn't like he knew how his fever spiked either, or gotten higher in such little time. "Or your fever? You weren't nearly as warm when I left this morning. How the hell did it raise to—" Rummaging through the drawers once more, May had then pulled out a thermometer and gestured for Peter to put it under his tongue, while she waited for it to beep. However, when it did, her worry only increased when she finally saw the numbers on the machine. "102.3 degrees?"

"I-I... d'n't..." Stopping to cough again, the fifteen year old immediately winced, the harsh sound of his sore throat and the heat from his fever making him, both, sleepy and sick.

"Okay, that's it, no more talking until you can actually either start a sentence or speak," May stated. Then, setting the notepad and pencil down on the table in front of the two, she placed her hands on her nephew’s back and directed him to his room. "Go lie down," She instructed. "I don't want to hear you talking, laughing, or even whispering. You need rest, so head to bed."

"W-What?" Peter protested. "B-B-But... what a-about—" Suddenly, the kid burst into another coughing fit and, as he did, May placed a cold hand on his back. "H-H-Hom'work?" He breathed, quietly. "I-I have a... pr'ject to work on w-with Ned... and Mich'lle..."

"And they'll understand," May assured the teen, as she helped him settle into the bed, before tucking the covers over him. "Besides, worst comes to worst—" She shrugged. "You'll have to miss school for a while and I'll send your teachers an email—write a note for when you go back to school, too."

"B-But... wh't 'bout patrol? Sp'der-Man? Peo'le'll be i-in... d'ng'r, May..."

"Peter, the police are there for a reason. Besides, they have jobs, and you need to take the night off," She said, as she brushed Peter's sweaty hair away from his feverish face. "Just go to sleep, okay? You need it, sweetie."

"M-M'kay..." Sighing softly, the teen began to fall asleep, but quickly winced as he did. Smiling, May had then went to leave her nephew to sleep and began to walk out of the room, but stopped once she heard him call her name again. "...A-And... M-M-May? Th'nks..."

**Author's Note:**

> I’m gonna have some spare writing time for the next two weeks while I’m on winter break, so requests are welcomed.
> 
> (By the way, if you caught my Riverdale, Teen Wolf and The Fault in Our Stars/John Green references, then congrats! You’re my favourite person in the whole world!)


End file.
